


Late Night Worry

by queen_scribbles



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:46:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24927154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_scribbles/pseuds/queen_scribbles
Summary: Sometimes it helps to have a friend indulge your coping methods. Others they just need to make sure you don't push it.
Relationships: Female Detective & Mason, Female Detective/Adam du Mortain
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Late Night Worry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haledamage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haledamage/gifts).



> carry prompt fill from tumblr

The late-night stillness of the training room was broken by sharp thuds as Mallory’s fists hit the dummy in front of her again and again, echoes chasing each other up the high ceiling. It had taken a while--longer than she wanted to dwell on--to shape her erratic, wild swings into something resembling a rhythm, but she was finally at a point where she could settle into the flow--

“You’re up late.”

She tensed at the comment mid-punch and swung around so fast the tail of her braid almost hit her in the face. “Couldn’t sleep.” _Didn’t want to._ “Needed to hit something after... after today.”

Mason snorted a dark chuckle as he pushed off the doorframe. “I approve of your coping methods.” He ran one hand through his hair as he glanced between her tension-riddled posture and the dummy helping her work through it. “Might go better against someone who’ll hit back.”

“You volunteering?” Mallory snarked, crossing her arms and arching a brow.

He mimicked her posture with a smirk. “Maybe I am.”

She pressed her lips together in thought. He had a point; hitting something stationary without worry of retaliation let her slip into a rhythm she didn’t have to think about, which in turn let her thoughts wander. There was only one place they’d go tonight, a place she was trying very hard to avoid. 

Adam laying unnervingly, _terrifyingly_ still in a pool of his own blood.

Again.

_“Tu... omnia...”_

She tried not to flinch at the thought, but from the way Mason’s eyebrow arched higher, she failed spectacularly. So Mallory cracked her knuckles--no easy feat with her hands wrapped as they were--and nodded sharply. “Alright.”

He sauntered toward her. “Want me to take it easy on you?”

Mallory shrugged and flipped her braid back over her shoulder. “Do whatever you want.”

Mason’s head cocked slightly at that, and he sighed as he rolled his shoulders. “You don’t need to mope, Mallory, he’s gonna be fine.”

“Mope-? I’m not- Why would I be _moping_?!”

He let out a sharp bark of laughter as he stepped closer. “Oh, you haven’t hidden it _nearly_ well enough to try that shit.”

She rolled her eyes and lightly kicked the training dummy’s base.”He’s not right now,” she muttered, then narrowed her eyes at Mason. “Am I hitting you, or what?”

“I don’t know, detective,” he baited, stopping just out of reach, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “ _Are_ you?”

Mallory glared for a second before taking a swing at his jaw. She didn’t care if it was stupid, she didn’t care if it would hurt her more than him--

Mason batted her hand away before she could even finish the thought and arched a brow at her, his grey eyes almost silver in the moonlight. “Come on, are you gonna hit me, or what?”

She growled as she swung again, at his ribs this time. He blocked that punch, too, but she didn’t pause for banter or baiting before following up with a kick toward his knees. Mason sidestepped and swept her other foot out from under her in the time it took to blink.

Mallory twisted to land on her hip, rolled back to her feet before the impact even had time to register, and huffed a loose wisp of hair out of her eyes. _Alright, let’s go, then_. she thought as she pushed herself forward again.

It didn’t take long to turn into an only slightly toned-down repeat of her first training session. And it didn’t take long into _that_ before Mason caught one of her punches and held on to her wrist rather than let go.

“You’re slow tonight,” he said. There was no mockery in the words. No sarcastic gloating. Just a comment.

Mallory still bristled. “I am not!” She tugged a little on her arm, and swung at him with the other hand when he wouldn’t let go.

Mason caught that one, too, loosely holding both her wrists level with his chest. “Mallory, I’m holding back even more than during your training. You’re decent enough at this you should’ve at least landed _one_ damn hit by now.”

She opened her mouth to protest, couldn’t find words, and snapped it shut again

He briefly tightened his grip before letting go of her wrists and running a narrowed-eye gaze over her. “You need sleep.”

Mallory stiffened and took a wide step back, arms crossed defensively. “No, I’m fine.”

Mason snorted. “Like hell you are. Between your breathing and your heart rate, don’t really even need to look at you to tell.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Mallory repeated with a scowl, squaring up for another punch. She _was_ , and besides, trying to sleep would just wind up with her thoughts going those places she was trying not to let them. All things being equal, she’d rather be holding them off here than laying in bed staring at the ceiling. _What does he know, anyway?_

Mason dodged forward when she threw the punch, letting it glance off his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her off her feet.

“Mason!” she yelped angrily, squirming in vain hope of getting away. “Mason, put me down!”

“No,” he said, sounding smug as he waited out her efforts before settling her over his shoulder and heading out the door. “You need some goddamn sleep, and since you’re apparently too stupid to admit it, someone’ll have to make you.”

“Why do you even _care_?” Mallory grumbled, pushing against his back. Her braid slid forward and bumped the underside of her chin.

“You’re one of us,” Mason said. He jostled her higher on his shoulder as he rounded a corner. “Cut it out. Don’t want you to be completely useless if we need you tomorrow. Last thing we need’s _two_ members down.”

She didn’t really have a rebuttal, much to her annoyance, and had to content herself with an irritated but resigned snort before lapsing into silence.

It wasn’t a long walk from the training area to her room, especially with how fast Mason walked. And one small mercy of the late hour was empty halls so no one saw her being carried like a bloody sack of potatoes. One small mercy of her annoyance was it kept her from yawning or drifting off before they reached her room and proving Mason right.

Mason shoved the door open and strode across the room to dump her on the bed. “Get some damn sleep.” He smirked when she opened her mouth to argue. “Or do I need to stay and hold you down on the bed? Because I am more than alright with that plan.”

Mallory snapped her mouth shut and glowered at him, maintaining angry eye contact as she tugged loose one of her wrist wrappings to start unwinding it. “You can go now.”

He shrugged and headed for the door. He paused halfway and looked back at her. “Mallory. _**Sleep**_.” There was no sarcasm, no annoyance coloring the words. He sounded almost _concerned_.

Mallory’s shoulders slouched a little at the realization and she nodded. “...I will.” Her dreams wouldn’t be fun, but she could at least _try_.

Mason gave a single, sharp nod, but she was pretty sure she saw relief in his eyes before he turned and walked out of her room, tugging the door shut behind him.

He’d been right, too; Mallory could feel the exhaustion tugging at her again before she’d finished unwinding her handwraps. It only grew heavier when she bent to unlace her boots. She kicked them off, wriggled out of her cargo trousers, and flopped back on the bed, grabbing the edge of the duvet to wrap around herself like a cocoon as she curled up. That would do. She didn’t have the energy to get in bed properly.

And if she was very lucky, she’d be so tired she wouldn’t need to worry about dreams.

_“You are... everything.”_

She was not very lucky


End file.
